


Complete

by myblueworld



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3461522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myblueworld/pseuds/myblueworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silva is humming a song, something that Villa faintly remember as a song that Silva likes to put on the audio set in the car. And Villa just realizes he also sometimes hums the same tune when he’s brushing his teeth, just because he hears Silva humming it.</p><p>Everything about Silva is just so familiar, so lovable, so…</p><p>“Marry me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Complete

**_[*]_ **

David Villa hates onion. Okay, maybe that’s not exactly the most accurate description. It’s not like he hates onion that he prefers not to eat it. He hates dealing with onion. Dealing with, as in chopping it. Like what he's doing now.

A number of profanities stream out from his lips as Villa incidentally cuts his own finger instead of the onion. A hissing sound from the stove makes him makes a 90-degree turn to the stove, finding the water that he was boiling along with the beef somehow has overflown. He lowers down the fire of the stove while muttering another swear words.

Okay, Villa’s pretty sure that he has to put something else into the stew. Rosemary. No, not rosemary. Pepper? No. Villa is quite sure that it’s one of those herbs that he has to put in. Parsley? Basil?

He groans, and wonders how it seems to be so easy for Silva to cook something. But when Villa is the one doing it, chaos is the most polite expression to describe it.

Panic starts creeping in him as Villa searches for the paper where he has written down the recipe. His eyes catch the paper lies on the kitchen island, with two eggs and a sack of sugar on top of it. Holding a spatula on his right hand, Villa steps to the island with his eyes still on the stove, making sure that he's not about to burn down the whole kitchen. He pulls the paper without really looking at it. A move which he instantly regrets right the second after he hears the dangerous sound of eggs rolling down on the surface of the island.

He turns his head just in time to see the eggs reach the edge of the island, and fall of it, almost like in a slow-motion part of a movie.

Letting out another groan, Villa kneels down, trying to pick up the cracked egg shells. And of course, as he is destined to be a gigantic mess whenever he does something more than using the coffee maker in the kitchen, his elbow knocks down the sugar.

Letting out a desperate sigh, Villa stands up, throwing his head to the back. He looks at the ceiling.

“Oh Dear God, if you really do exist, what have I done to deserve this?”

He was not aware at all of the creaking sound of the kitchen door being opened. Not until a soft voice calls his name.

“Villa?”

Villa almost jumps out of his skin.

“You! What are you doing here?” he half-shouts at Silva, pointing the spatula that he's holding like a sword at Silva. Silva himself is standing at the door frame, staring at Villa with widened dark eyes that are almost half-hidden behind his hair.

“Villa?” he asks again, brushing off his hair from his forehead. “Ummm… I… actually live here too?” he says, looking like he's trying not to laugh.

 _That_ , is actually a good explanation of why Silva is there, standing at the frame of the kitchen door, looking at him, slightly confused, but also looks like he’s a bit amused.

Villa nervously runs his hand over his hair. “Oh. Yeah. Right. But you don’t suppose to be here until 6, right?”

Silva walks closer to Villa, biting his lips as if he’s trying to hold back a smile. “It’s already 6.30, Villa.”

Villa’s eyes widened in shock.

“But…”

Guess no small sweet surprise is going to happen then. Duh.

This time Silva doesn’t conceal that smile from flashing on his face. He tiptoes a little to place a quick peck on Villa’s cheek.

“I’ll clean this up, Guaje. You better take a shower and clean yourself.”

Villa tries to protest, but realizes that he is already too exhausted to do so. He sighs.

“Do you want to just order something?”

So much for a home-made dinner.

Silva peeks at the kitchen island, or rather at the mess that Villa has successfully created. He shakes his head and walks there.

“I don’t think so. I think I can still make something out of…” he waves at the stuff that still remains untouched. Then he turns his head to flash a small assuring smile at Villa, “Whatever we have there.”

Villa snorts a little,  “Do you really think you can make something out of that mess?” he says, half-joking.

Silva looks at him. And there is something else in that eyes, something that Villa can’t really put into words.

“Of course I can. Remember, I can make it through when we are parted by the ocean, Guaje.”

Something fluttered in Villa’s chest.

“That is not a fair comparison.” He mumbles.

But he knows what Silva means. And he’s glad that they have made it through this far. Then again, if they didn’t make it, if they gave up, if any of them had just given up…

Villa shakes his head. He can’t picture how it would be, what he would be.

He’s just so glad that they have made it this far.

He takes a seat on one of the stool while Silva starts cleaning up.

Silva glances at him as he throws the egg’s shells to the bin. “You should clean yourself.”

Villa stubbornly shakes his head. “Let me just sit here, feeling guilty while watching you cleaning up my mess.”

Silva chuckles. But he doesn’t push further. He doesn’t even ask any question on what Villa was actually trying to do and why. But that’s just Silva. He knows when it’s better not to ask question. Villa has never been good in answering questions anyway. Besides, for so many times, it’s like Silva has already known the answer anyway, as if he understands what Villa is incapable of saying, what is happening behind Villa’s bitch face.

Silva continues cleaning up the kitchen, methodically, almost symmetrically. And Villa can’t stop staring at him, can’t take his eyes off Silva, looking somehow vulnerable with his small frame but freakingly adorable.

Villa can even see him and Silva being together. He can see them both like this, five, fifteen, heck, maybe even fifty years from now. Still being together without saying anything but still sharing the silence happily, knowing that the presence of each other is already enough. That words are no longer needed when what they have are beyond words anyway.

Villa watches Silva brushes off his hair from covering his eyes when he pours some spices into the stew, A gesture so familiar, but still stirs off something inside of him. Silva is humming a song, something that Villa faintly remembers as a song that Silva likes to put on the audio set in the car. And Villa just realizes he also sometimes hums the same tune when he’s brushing his teeth, just because he hears Silva humming it.

Everything about Silva is just so familiar, so lovable, so…

“Marry me.”

Silva turns his neck to look at Villa, doesn’t seem to really hear what Villa just said.

“ _Qué_?”

“Marry me, Silva. Please?”

Silva gasps. His dark eyes widened, and the surprised expression on his face is almost childlike. He turns on his heels now, facing Villa, but freezes. With his back half-leaning on the kitchen counter, both of his hand are holding the counter, as if he needs a solid support to make sure that what he just heard was real.

Villa stands up from his stool and walks closer to him.

“Guaje?”

Silva’s trembling voice is just a small, soft whisper.

Villa shoves in his hand to the pocket of his jeans and pulling out a small box. He has kept the box for a while now, and to ask the question after a romantic dinner that he prepared by himself is what he planned for. But screw it. He's going to ask it now.

He kneels down with one knee in front of Silva.

“You know how terrible I am when it comes to words,” Villa clears his throat as suddenly it gets dry. “But really, it’s not just me being incapable of putting things into words. But when it comes to you, there’s just no words.”

Villa can feel his own hands are trembling when he opens the box, revealing a pair of rings inside it.

“And I know for sure, there will be no me without you. Because us, you and I together, it’s all that I can think of when I think about the future. So, will you give me the chance, to be the one next to you, for the rest of my life?”

Silva curves up a smile, and Villa just realized that this, this is the first time he has ever seen those dark eyes are shaded with tears. Suddenly, Villa feels something warm swelling up in his eyes too.

“David Josué Jiménez Silva, will you marry me?”

Seeing the warm soft look in Silva’s eyes, Villa knows the answer without needing any words to be spoken. But Silva says it anyway.

“David Villa Sánchez, yes. I will marry you.”

 

**_[**]_ **

David Villa used to hate the sea and the ocean. Once. Once upon a time, when a freaking ocean stood between him and the person that has become the air that he breathes.

But now, here he is, next to the ocean, walking on the sand at the day that he never thought would ever come. But now he knows for sure that this day would be the day he will remember forever.

The golden sun is setting down in the horizon, coloring the sky with glorious color. Shades of orange in the sky remind him of Valencia, where everything starts.

Pique, who is walking next to him, leans closer to whisper.

“Ooohh… look at Sergio and Cesc over there. I bet Sergio is talking about how he is planning to have this kind of wedding too for him and Nando.”

Even being nervous like this, Villa can’t help to chuckle. He bows his head a little, but carefully steals a glance at the rows of chair where Cesc and Sergio are sitting next to each other, Cesc whispering something to Sergio. Without looking at Sergio, Fernando who is sitting at the other side of him hands a tissue to Sergio. Sergio takes it and uses it to dab the corner of his eyes, and then kisses Nando’s cheek.

“Aren’t they just adorable?” Pique cooing with a low voice.

Villa has no time to respond to that, as they already reach the end of the aisle. Pique gives him a hug, and takes his seat. Villa turns around, eyes staring at the aisle.

Silva starts walking on the aisle between the rows of chair. Juan walks next to him, holding his arm.

Villa suddenly forgets to breathe. He doesn’t even realize whether his heart is still beating or not. Because Silva, Silva is the only one that he can see right now.

Silva and his eyes, dark and warm as burning charcoals. Silva and his hair that always falls perfectly messy, covering his eyes every now and then and makes him have to brush it off again and again. Silva and that smile, one of his thousand smiles that Villa can never get enough of, that Villa wants to devour forever. Silva and his freckles, the constellation that Villa never gets tired of to trace with his finger.

Silva stops right in front of him. Juan hugs him, and then turns to Villa. He pats his shoulder as he beams him a smile.

He nods. “I’m so happy for both of you,” he says, before takes his seat.

Silva’s smile and the look in his eyes make Villa feels lightheaded, as if everything suddenly glows with gold glitters and swirl into blurry images with Silva as the only thing solid and real.

He reaches out for his hand. And when Silva takes his hand, lacing their fingers together, his whole world finally completes, comes to a full circle.


End file.
